Ruck, Maul, Try

I've had a dormant interest in rugby for a year or two, but only as of a few days ago have I actually jumped right in and started watching videos about it. I downloaded a couple full games from the 2015 Rugby World Cup and watched them over the weekend. I read through the rules and gameplay on wikipedia. I just finished looking up USA Rugby.

I think ever since I was younger and realized that rugby players were these boulders of men who had cauliflower ears and tree trunk legs and the best jerseys of all I've sort of harbored a secret inclination toward that type of athleticism and musculature. That might seem silly since I'm sort of a wimpy dude with soft hands. Only this past weekend have I realized that these men's sizes vary quite a bit and that in spite of the brutal tackles and padless gameplay rugby is actually known as a "gentleman's sport." Which just makes it all the cooler to me.

And I noticed, even in just the two games I watched, that they are quite amiable as the "play." After they slam each other into the grass they help each other up and pat each other on the back. They respect the referee and immediately leave the field when sent to the sin bin after some kind of penalty.  (There are always exceptions and you can certainly find videos of "the worst rugby fights" and so on.) They certainly don't roll around on the field holding their shins like some other sport we all love too. If anything, they're sent off the field for bleeding until the medics can get them all wrapped up and they can resume their hunt for concussions. I think it's actually impressive that there are not more injuries, but unless you're at least a little familiar with the game, even just to the level I've hit over the weekend, you don't realize that in spite of how it appears as they play, the rules govern in such a way as to keep the game relatively safe. I won't even try to explain, because I don't fully understand the rules myself and it is probably pointless, but what little I know of the game is fascinating. Essentially, as soon as someone is tackled, they and the tacklers are basically out of the play. The just lay there under a growing pile of incoming skirmishers who wage shoulder war on each other to try to win the ball back. Those are rucks and mauls. The scrum is that fascinating contraption of hunched over men locking arms and and necks and playing the opposite of tug of war. I read that only players who have special training are even allowed to participate, because wrong moves or poor skill can result in serious neck injuries. But it's all cozy!

You can tell these guys leave all their guts on the field. They are so exhausted. It's an 80-minute game and many of them play the entire time. They may not run as much as in soccer, but they're running a lot and tackling and ramming and jumping all the time to boot. But it's incredible to watch as the camera may zoom in on a player during a lull. He's breathing hard and his mouth guard is sort of propped out of his mouth to allow more air in. He may be looking into the bleachers, but not really focusing on anything. He is weary. And then suddenly the game may pick up again, the camera zooms out to catch the whole field, and you'll notice that same player galloping toward the guy with the ball, crouching at the last second, and putting life and limb in the balance as he goes for a tackle. Then he basically goes limp and gets piled on by other 220-pound guys until that little play is done. If his arms are free he may stretch them out and keep them waving so the ref knows he's not involved with the play. And then he pops right back up as soon as he's free to do so (you have to or you risk being offsides) and at the very least will run back to his side of the line, or more likely, seek out another tackle. It's incredible. I love it.

Sports are so crazy. Right now there are twig-looking cyclists riding bicycles the weight of sandwiches up miles and miles of mountain roads in France. And there are rubbery swimmers who only eat calories and fast-twitching track sprinters who have red blood cells like bean bags trying out for those olympics. And men and women who run all day and all night at 11,000 feet elevation in Colorado. And all the other people doing all the other sports. Including breathing boulders with cauliflower ears who could tackle you to six feet under but may also pat your back after having done so.

- - -

I decided I'd run after work today and then go to the Redlands public library and write a blog post since it's open until 9p on Mondays and Tuesdays. I got done running too late and it wasn't worth going to the library, but I am getting a dumb blog post done. Even though it's just some pointless yammering about rugby.

Chris' Quirks

I don't know what it is, but when I'm working in InDesign I stay and stay and stay. Work was officially done at 6:00 p.m. today. It's now after 11:00 p.m. and I just got home. I was making little signs for the Alumni Journal booth I'll be manning during the big alumni homecoming (of sorts) this weekend. Really, they're kind of dumb little things. But I couldn't call a sign or form (I was also working on a questionnaire, among other things) done until I'd fixed every little thing. I mean, what is that? But the thing is, I didn't mind at all. I was in the zone. Enjoy it? Maybe. Time just was going, but I was just there, doing my thing.

Thinking about it while walking from the car to the house, I wondered what it would take to just make up a little sign real quick and call it good. And on the flip side, what it would take to scheme and then produce a really elaborate sign, like a true graphic designer would accomplish. I'm in the middle, or have been this week. I couldn't decide whether it was a blessing or a curse. It's great that I see the little things that I want to adjust and fix and change, I guess. But the problem is that I can't be done until it's all done. It may be somewhat perfectionistic, but only in the scope of my limited abilities and creative vision. It's more of a perfectionism in process or something, not actual product. I can't make anything whoa that's crazy amazing. I can just bore you to death with my diligence. But again, I didn't notice that I was lingering. I have no idea how long I was actually spending on things. It was just happening. I listened to Coldplay's Parachute album twice, with plenty of silence bookending the listens. That's something.

Will I understand this better someday? Will "it," whatever it is, turn out to be my thing, a blessing, a gift? Will it just always be a weird requirement for getting arguably menial tasks accomplished? More of a curse? An unfortunate side effect? I really don't know. But I'd like to think someday it will come in handy and I'll be the envy of the town. (Not with that attitude, Mister.)

What does it mean to me?

In this particular spot in the interview (page 10), Tavi and Ella are briefly discussing feminism, but when I read this bit it spoke to me of how I've felt about many topics and many situations where I've not said anything because I didn't feel like I knew enough to say anything. Perhaps it's something many people, or all, deal with at some point or another, or often. It's certainly a feeling I get with some frequency. I've always thought I was just a person who appreciated knowing the big picture, everything, before moving on or producing or opining. But this is a new twist for me, and I think it's good.

Tavi speaking, in reflection:

“‘How can you ever have read enough to be able to talk about this in the right way?’ What I’ve learned is that the answer isn’t to retreat into ignorance, but to find the ways in which it’s important to you and talk about that....”

I think this is wise: discover what's important to you in said topic, and talk about that. And it can also be applied unwisely. It is important to remain cognizant of your own experience in relation to the topic you may want to address. It is important to remain curious. It is important to keep an eye out for the real ways a topic is meaningful to you, because it may not really be the topic, it may be another underlying issue that the topic brings to the surface. But talking about a hard topic, or a popular topic, is not something to avoid until you are an expert on the topic. I suppose if that were the case, no one would ever know that another was an expert. But expertise isn't the point... Finding what's important to you, from whatever angle that means coming from, is the cool part. I think that's the place where we'll relate to each other. That's where one will find the most satisfaction: speaking of the parts that matter to himself or herself. To me. 

That's what I think, anyway.

Thoughts on Collateral

I watched Collateral (Tom Cruise, Jamie Foxx) again today. To me it's kind of strangely a good movie. This time it made me think a bit, and I wonder if that's not what at least one of the purposes was for it.

Bad begets bad. When the actions of a life have leaned toward the ugly, even well-intentioned acts of badness will be bad. There is a moment in the movie where the hired killer shoots a cop that had been trying to help the taxi driver. It was an act of kindness—to the killer—a noble act, a saving of the taxi driver's life. But no matter his intentions, the result was tragic and unhelpful. To have truly committed a noble act, to truly have saved the man's life, he should have walked away and killed no more.

He who lives by the sword dies by the sword. It's a Hollywood twist, perhaps, but in the end (spoiler alert) the killer is killed. And for the first time, and I don't know why this triggered it, I thought of the word "lives." It made me wonder whether perhaps he who defends another life once by the sword would not die by the sword. That is to say, is living by violence what kills the violent? Perhaps it is more a matter of the heart than I had realized. Perhaps it is he who has made his life around killing and hurting who will be hurt and killed in the end, and another, who must kill to defend or save, for example, will live a long life and die of old age.

"If a man dies on the 17B line, will anyone notice?" the killer asks in the end (or something very much like it). The question brings the viewer full circle to a story he told nearer the beginning, of a man who died on the train and remained unnoticed for six hours. In my mind, it was his way of asking, "Is my life really suddenly ending without leaving a single good mark in the world?" He didn't think life was very valuable, but when his was over... he wasn't so sure. It is a sobering question. It is a reminder to us not to allow ourselves to reach that point without asking what meaning we can give to life. We are not just a blip in space, two men in a taxi.

Our actions have collateral damage. Or collateral good. I suppose it's up to us to decide which we believe in. I believe God is good. I've not lived well in accordance with that belief during my life, but I'm trying to remind myself of it more often. I believe it's a good central point. I believe it's a strong foundation. I believe that even when I do not live up to the good I could live to, that, even in my lowest or most hurtful moments, I can point to Him and His goodness. The question will be, will the person next to me be willing to look where I point? Will my failures as a human dissuade him or her, or will my repentance allow them freedom to see? Will my successes as a human persuade him or her, or will my arrogance prevent them freedom to see?

It was just a movie. Just a made-up story, full of action sequences, tight shots, high-intensity music, and careful coloring, not to mention all the other cinematic things I'm completely unacquainted with. But I guess I feel it's better to reflect on it and risk publishing some cliché thoughts than just treat it as another blank spot in my memory. So here's to living a life of good.

Let them be

original alt text: "I hate when people take photos of their meal instead of eating it, because there's nothing I love more than the sound of other people chewing."

I think I've been one to flip-flop between these two ideas, and reading this swung me toward the let-them-photograph side because it makes a lot of sense. Especially, perhaps, for someone like myself.


Does having the ability to photograph an experience make my memory less strong? Perhaps. I have been one to say that. But it also means I can look back on that experience, literally. It means I can share it with others with more than stumbling words. It means I go and search for more similar experiences. And it means when I do forget it, I can find it again.


So, it's true, there will probably always be people taking more pictures than they need to and who are forgetting what is in front of them, but may we let them be. Most of us just want a picture, of an experience, that we want to remember, because it is special.

I searched "running" on WIMP, and then...

...ended up watching the best music video I've seen in a while. I feel like I've been missing out on something in life. The WIMP video was posted on September 28 of some unknown year, and the YouTube video was posted in summer of 2010. And lo and behold, there are several more videos of these chaps I'll have to check out sometime.

I loved the first minute or so especially. Such form, such eloquence, such suavity.

UPDATE: I've watched a couple more of their videos and they are all awesome. These guys. Awesome. It's a lame comparison, but due to my ignorance I'd describe the music as a Japanese Owl City. But very catchy. And their accents. Oh man. It's their videos that make it, though. They film a lot of the scenes in random places during daily life, so people stare and join in and it's all sorts of fun. So cool.

Weird Beard

The end of this. This guy knows what's up. What a cool little photography project. (I saw this via thekidsshouldseethis, an awesome blog.)

The Innovation of Loneliness

It's ironic that I'm posting this (everyone says), but I need to watch it again and think about it again and then respond.

The Innovation of Loneliness from Shimi Cohen on Vimeo.

(I saw it originally on the great wimp.com.)

I am shamed

gocomics.com

Why am I not more interested in valuable knowledge? And how does one become more interested? 

I guess it's similar to why I eat Taco Bell or bowls of cereal instead of preparing some broccoli or cooking some oatmeal. Or why I'll put on a sweater over my dress shirt instead of ironing it. Or why I'll play Solitaire instead of just reading my Bible. Or why I'll just go for a quick run instead of strengthening my body as a whole with a variety of exercises and warmups. Or why I'll watch a movie instead of continue in one of the three books I'm "reading." 

I imagine everyone has similar thoughts and similar struggles. But some folks seem to have it down better than others, and I'd like to be one of those folks. Small steps, I suppose. But as always, easier said than done. Easier imagined than created. Easier desired than acquired. 

Living Is FreE

Came across this video via Ben Howard's posterous blog. 


This guy's got it right. "Plant some shit." Therapeutic. Food is the problem and food is the solution. Gangster gardner. People saying, aren't you afraid people are going to steal your food? "Hell no I ain't afraid they're gonna steal it. That's why it's on the street. That's the whole idea!"

I like Ron's enthusiasm for and manner of trying to give people access to not only good food, but a way out. A better life. A proper use of energy, focus, and creativity.

It made me think of these kids here. How in the world to curb their seemingly insatiable desire for getting-out-of-things, for not-trying-hard, for hating-on-the-cafe-food-because-meat, for Imma-drop-this-wrapper-on-the-floor-because-I'm-ridiculous, for study-hall-what-is-study? Sometimes my biggest frustration is why they can't seem to get off their lazy chubalumps and work on the little things. Why do they have to encourage each other into make excuses for every dumb thing? Why they gotta not take care of the little stuff? Why they gotta treat school like it's something to be avoided as best as possible? I want to see kids who take the life seriously!

Was I like that? Am I still?

Some kids are stellar, lots of kids just have bad moments, and maybe I'm not being fair at all. I'm also 26 and have no ambition in life, so I can't really preach because the log in my eye slurs my speech. Plus, I don't want to be the guerilla gardner of these kids' lives... I got nothin'. So I'll stop here.

But... wouldn't it be nice?

This photo pangs me. Because of language. (I used pangs as a verb. It feels okay.)

Is language better, too, if you Fry it?

And then there was this. Did I steal it from someone I know? Possibly. Probably. But it must be from a long time ago because it's pretty far up on my list of To Watch bookmarks. So I watched it. And it was quite an enjoyable little monologue of Stephen Fry about language. I have to say, the accent just encourages its excellence.

The thing is, it's not like I don't make mistakes

I got accused the other day by the head dean of being a stickler with grammar because I'd proofread the Urinal Journal and enjoyed a good laugh during staff meeting because of something he said, while sitting right next to him.

In my defense, I'd say I know others who'd make me look like an innocent English-as-a-seventh-language four-year-old. But that said, I do appreciate quality material produced, and spoken, by whomever I'm associated with. And these days, that's the dorm.

(See, I don't even know if I used whomever correctly, but it just sounded right. Nor do I know if I used correctly correctly. Nor nor. And am I supposed to end a sentence with with?)

"Proper" English just makes things appear better, and with humans, appearance is about all you get. So when I saw this little comic today, I had to put it down for the record. It's literally the funniest thing in the world. Literally ever.

UPDATE:

So this was posted the next day. Awesome.

Never Give Up

More often than not, I think it's safe to say, a breakaway group in a cycling race eventually gets caught by the pursuing bunch. And when they are getting caught, one can identify the exact moment they give up. They sit up in their saddles, slow their pedaling cadence, and resign themselves to the inevitable catch.

And all the riders who attempt a breakaway know this. But they also know that there is always a chance. Sometimes, a break makes it all the way. And sometimes, if he doesn't give up, just one rider finds himself fighting for the finish, trying to outlast the chasing horde of riders behind him for a sweet, sweet victory.

Such was the case in the seventh stage of the Tour of Turkey yesterday. Here's a two-minute clip of what happened. Totally worth it (again and again).

Surely that is enjoyable to watch, even for someone not remotely interested in cycling races. The commentator's utter excitement over the events almost guarantees it. A slightly longer version with better quality and a different commentator can be found here. (And for anyone interested in a 12-min clip with context on either side of the event, it is here.)

I wanted to post something about this finish, not only because I found it absolutely fantastic, but because I hope that I will look through my blog in the future and be able to enjoy it again later on. But early this afternoon I realized another reason to post it: I feel that this race's finish corresponded very well to what I just read in Christ's Object Lessons. To me that seems funny, but the more I watch this video and think about the chapter I read, the more similarities occur to me.

"Be ready in 30 minutes," he said.

When I think of traveling, it's never like this. Not really. I tend to imagine observing carefully, watching, listening, marveling at the landscapes, architecture, and people, maybe even running—but not for my life. Not in flight from those who would kill me and the people I'm with.

At the same time, those are the moments that tend to create the most striking images, that if captured, more easily become legacies in themselves. At times I think war photography is the best photography of all. The most intriguing to me, that is. I've never even been close to experiencing it or observing it in person, but my imagination leads me to think of several skills and traits one must have: quick technical camera fingers, a heart of sensitivity to recognize the emotion in a scene, a heart of stone to withstand the horror and sadness and fear without going fetal, courage, fitness, traveling sense, cultural sense, ideally looks that aid in blending in, and at least some familiarity with the local language and customs. What a stressful adrenaline rush it must be.

It makes me think of the film Triage. And of the photographer I did a report on during my photojournalism class, Eugene Smith. Powerful stuff, but it must take its toll.

I suppose from a comfortable distance war photography fascinates and intrigues me. I wonder myself into war scenarios and imagine the images I'd capture, full of fear and pain and sometimes hope. Then my mind takes the next step and questions how I could get into that kind of job. And then it all stops because I realize that's ridiculous and I'd be too afraid anyway.

I'm not even paying attention to why Syria is having such a war, what is being done about it, what the losses are, or even the photographs coming out of such a conflict. But since I did happen upon her story, I have to say, I have a lot of respect for—and yes, curiosity about—photographers like Zohra Bensemra and all the others who risk their lives, and the lives of those supporting them, in conflict zones. It's almost unbelievable. But they've got pictures to prove it.

Loose Change

It's loss I don't like, not change. Loss of the things I can control, like my time, mostly. I feel like I'm in charge of that, so when something is sprung on me, it puts me off guard and sometimes upsets me, even to the point of anger at times. But that's usually when it's something that gives me the immediate gut reaction of unease. I don't know where that internal barometer is or how it gauges things, but at a split second I have already judged things, and I've learned that I need to suspend those feelings (or, accept them for the moment) and consider the situation more carefully. Often this means ultimately going against my gut reaction because I feel that it is logical to do so, although not necessarily more comfortable (i.e., less upsetting) by any means.

Most of this is very subconscious and instinctive. I'm only recently beginning to realize this kind of tendency in me has been cultivated over time and is probably a significant contributing factor in my inability to understand how God works—and how to let Him work—in my life. Literally, it means Him controlling my mind, essentially being me. That's how I understand it for now, anyway. And while all the pastors get up front and say that living with Christ is such a big adventure, go for it, it doesn't seem to be that way (and least, in the sense of it being all fun and games which is often the kind of slant I seem to hear) and even if it was, it's not like that even makes much sense when talking about an invisible God and a personal relationship. One can drop everything and go explore the Arctic at the drop of a hat, but one can't drop everything and immediately know someone else. And that's what this is about here, right? Abiding in Him and He abiding in me?

I'm changing my view of change. I am going to try and remember to not say "I don't like change" anymore, but rather "I don't like loss." The latter is much more consistently true and accurate than the former, and I like consistency and efficiency. (And I must emphasize that that thing—consistency—doesn't mean absence of change. It can be a consistency at a foundational level with truckloads of tweaks and alterations at a more surface level, which is generally what I'm talking about and what I see.) This means that I will admit to being wary of the threat of loss that succumbing to God's will surely means, but I'm also very eager, at some level, to experience the change wrought by such submission. Surely, there is a great difference. So, the loss may be great, but the change is to be greater.

The Destruction of Nature As It Should Be

I think I must've seen the trailer for this film a year or two ago. Then a few days ago I saw a clip of it. Then just now I watched it. For 40 minutes I was enthralled with some of the best juxtaposition of audio and video I've seen to date. I think my favorite shot is the helmet and mask coming out of the cloud of dust.

I was trying to figure out why I liked it so much, besides the freakish beauty of the entire thing. I'm drawn to beauty, after all, and even more so when it comes in hand with hard work, creativity, and passion. But this has something more, I thought. There's more to it for me than just the beauty and power, skill and athleticism. And then I realized—it's introverted.

It's the fact that there is absolutely no dialogue, no characters, and rarely is there a face shown. It's because there is a lot of slow motion, a lot of majestic scenery, a lot of bicycle-shop details. It's because it depicts transformation and change, exhilaration and speed, creativity and creation—but also destruction and waste, pain and loss. It's all there. It's an introspective look at the torment and flight of my soul. All in a beautiful video about mountain bikes.

Life Cycles.

   


Watch the film on YouTube here.

Missionary Magic

It's these stories I heard as a kid, the ones that seemed so fun and faraway.  The missionary stories.  The ones with people with normalish names who talked in funny languages to people with funnyish names.  Where animals often played a role.  Or huts.  Or people who wanted or used some kind of magic—but the missionaries' magic was always better.  Always better.

And then I grew up and became more interested in... I guess just everything else.  But still hearing those stories now and then in church or something would make my insides heavy and a little bursting and I had to use the utmost control to maintain my passive front.

And so it is.  Even—or especially?—after going out as a "missionary" myself.  And probably will always be.  And such it was today when I read the story of The Witch Doctor and the Preacher.  I've heard of the Stahls, Ferdinand and Ana, and how they were the pioneering force for Adventism in Peru and other places.  And perhaps even more importantly, I saw those same shepherds' huts and traveled through some of those same mountains.  I think that's what made the story a little special to me today.

Maybe someday I, too, will be a real missionary at heart.

Volunteers must be getting tons of jobs here in the States

I don't usually read the articles in the feeds I've subscribed to, but I did this one.  It's concerning Adventist missions volunteers.  Apparently the North American numbers are in significant decline, but the rest of the world is sending out more volunteers.

I guess I found it worth reading because of my recent volunteer experience.  I'm still unsure of how I feel about missions and volunteering, but I guess I lean toward it being a positive thing still, especially for those who are ready to go serve, and even more especially when they end up in a place that is ready and needful of them.  It seems like location and lack is crucial for the success and overall positive outcome for both volunteer and locals (or whatever).

It was an interesting, quick read and I guess I could probably analyze the whole "volunteer" deal in my mind for a long time.  I think, to conclude with something, that I want the Adventist church's mission and volunteer program to be more than it currently is.  Frankly, I don't think highly of it, but I'd like to.

I think it'd be great for the global church network to have a strong, helping connection and communication between those areas that are in need of specific talents or skills and those people who are qualified to provide such help.  It seems like always suffixing our statements and testimonies and whatnot with something along the lines of "God just needs you to be willing, so if you're willing you should go" has watered down the quality of the program or service or whatever it is.  But this is just based on my experience and bias and lazy opinions, so it's not fair, I'll declare that right now.

So again, the article is called "Church Chat: Mission volunteers needed," in case there is interest.

Or maybe they do have this

I'm under the impression that many have the inkling to post a thought or two but hesitate because who will read it?  Not the no-one-will-read-it who-will-read-it, but the literal who will read it?  (I say many because I know I have this inkling, but I'd hate to be the earthling who appears naive enough to think he's the only one with x or y thought.  Outrageous.)

It sucks that they haven't invented a way to specifically randomize who receives a blog post.  Or that they haven't figured out how to randomly specify readers.  Or how to automatically just make the post available to those who should actually read it, or who only your deepest subconscious subliminal unawares unknown inherent internal burrito soul wants to actually read it.

I mean, who doesn't want to say things, but not really?  I know I do but not really.  To say or not to say?  That is not the question, it is the reality.